Working Security

I used to be a call girl and I had sex with the hotel security guard.

I was a prostitute in college, catering to older married men. I needed clients to be clean and discreet because I didn't want my work life to interfere in my real life. My family had no idea.

I used this one particular hotel who had this one particular security guard. The man looked like a viking without the horns. I knew he knew what I was doing, but he always looked the other way, until one night he was waiting by my car.

I figured I was going to be warned, but he surprised me by asking me out. For once in my life, I didn't know what to say, because I didn't understand his motive. "Are you trying to hire me?" I asked flatly.

"No, I just got divorced and I have to go home to a shitty, empty apartment and I'd rather go out with a pretty girl than face all that."

It was late, but I thought, why not? He was hot and I was unsatisfied and curious.

We ended up at a Waffle House. We talked a bit about his life, and he was curious about mine. I answered his questions and asked if he wanted to have sex, and he actually blushed. "No, I don't pay for it."

"Well my last client just wanted me to bathe him and I'm fucking horny and want to let it out. " I told him. "Hookers have sex for fun sometimes, you know."

That got a laugh out of him and he took me to his apartment, which was little more than a box with a tv, a chair, and a bed. "She must have really taken you to the cleaners." I said.

He shrugged.

"Well let's see if I can make you forget it for a bit." I said, reaching for the button on his pants. He was already hard and I liked what I saw. Better than most of the old farts I worked for. I went to work with my mouth, sucking him until his balls rested on my chin and he gasped for me to stop or he'd cum.

"I'm guessing your wife couldn't do that?" I asked.

"Who?"

My pussy was slick and dripping. We removed the rest of our clothes and tangled together on the bed. I moaned with genuine pleasure as he pushed his way inside, trembling with excitement. My clients never made me feel like that. He began thrusting, long and deep, slowly at first and then faster, while I played with my clit. He held off long enough to let me cum and then filled up the condom he was wearing with a primal grunt of relief. (It's that sound of relief that I love, fulfilling that desperate need like food or water or air).

After that I went home, and we carefully ignored each other at work. I never forgot him though, and when I graduated I went back and offered to buy him dinner at Waffle House...